


Exposed

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Felicity finally gets her hands on Oliver's journal. She discovers her husband has quite the way with words when they're written down on a piece of paper. It's pure fanfiction, smut, and fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by SA's comment in the Arrow Season 4 bloopers for 406 "Lost Souls" Before the yin-yang kiss in that episode during a the night shoot, he uttered, "She slowly took off her stockings, and made sure the cat was out of the room."

( _Originally via 511 "Second Chances"_ )

Felicity's fast fingers scurry across the keyboard. Multiple open windows reflect on her glasses as she prepares to shut down most of the lair's tech for the night. Oliver steps behind his wife's comfy new leather rolling desk chair, pressing a chaste kiss before his calloused palms knead over the her shoulders briefly.

"Hey," Oliver greets, whispering the words tenderly in that usual way of his.

She chimes, smiling broadly. Her pearly white teeth are a stark contrast to her patent red lips, "Hi."

"You look happy." He surmises, fingertips tracing ambiguous patterns over her arm clad in a pink cardigan.

"I am," Felicity confirms, typing away as her head nestles against his strong chest. "Honey, I got to hack into the Pentagon's database this week. It's been awhile since it's been just the five of us. OTA..."

Felicity doesn't fail to notice that her husband cringes at that moniker.

His wife continues, "Plus Rory and Thea. It was perfect. Oh, hey next time we have to go to Madame President Brayden's gala, remind me to thank her for that speedy pardon. Luckily, you two have a good rapport."

"Well, she's a smart lady with a good head on her shoulders. Kinda like someone else I know."

With a hand resting across her decolletage, Felicity plays along, "You know, I think I've heard of her."

"She is pretty badass," Oliver adds, retreating to a metal table by the med bay.

He sits on his haunches, absentmindedly playing with a black pen that's almost out of ink. Felicity's workstation is all closed for the night. Her boots clomp over the steps as she saunters off to be with her husband. His azure eyes fall shut, seeming defeated. His shoulders are hunched, and Oliver actually appears tired by the events of the day for once.

She notes, mouth falling into a minute frown. "Oh, no. I take the financial meeting Scott Roberts didn't go too well."

His eyebrows raise in question, shooting Felicity a look that reads 'How did you know that already?' But then again, Felicity knows him better than almost anyone.

"I can tell by the look on your face." Felicity acknowledges, making a misshapen gesture to emphasize the crinkles and lines around his features.

After a long beat palming his forehead, Oliver pipes up, "Treasurer Roberts thought that it was best to donate funds from Star City's annual Music & Arts festival towards new SCPD weaponry tech."

"What did he say about your pitch to helping the homeless in the Glades?"

Sighing heavily, anger laced Oliver's tone, "That there are other charities for aiding the poor all around the world."

"Huh?" His wife points out, wigging her digits, "You know those fast fingers can hack into anything quicker than the Flash at his top speed - even if it is Starling National for state and federal funding. Sure, we'd be breaking a crazy amount of laws, but you are the mayor. You can pardon me."

"Felicity, Honey. If I keep doing that, people will get even more suspicious than they already are."

"Fair enough. It was just a suggestion."

Her Q-Phone buzzes and vibrates in the back pocket of her dark blue skinny jeans. With two pulls and a grunt, Felicity manages to free her phone from the tight spots. Men are seriously lucky they have deep pockets in the literal and political sense. However, with people like Madame President Susan Brayden and Star City Mayor Oliver Queen in office, maybe one day the latter half of that argument will change for the better. Women have to break the glass ceiling to conquer the wage gap. Thankfully, as founder and C.E.O of Queen Incorporated, Felicity has accomplished that goal. Unfortunately, so many other ladies haven't, and it's unfair. Pushing those thoughts away, Felicity huffs out a giggle.

Her husband wonders, his gaze meeting hers, "What?"

"I have some good news," Felicity answers, touching his finger with hers before she interlaces them together.

His lips tick up in a genuine grin, "Well, I am in the market for some."

"Rory's bringing over some Big Belly Burger for us, so you don't have to whip something up on the dinky dual induction cooktop."

That was a little piece of good news, but at this point Oliver will take anything nice that comes his way. Green Arrow work wasn't nearly as stressful as dealing with stodgy politicians from nine to five. Oliver can handle taking out bad guys in the streets. Yet, going head-to-head with corrupt men in suits is a battle of the mind, Oliver doesn't always win. Luckily, he has a few damn good people in his administration.

"God, I cannot wait until our new house is finished." Oliver prays.

During Oliver and Felicity's final engagement, they purchased a comfortable three story home just a ways away from the old loft. It was nearly perfect for their little family of four. William often comes to visit on weekends, and their cat Walter is bunking with Thea while work is being done. The driveway needs to be repaved. The key phrase is 'nearly perfect', Felicity has previously suggested the third story of their house be converted into another makeshift bunker in case the lair ever became comprised again. The countertops in their kitchen simply aren't up to Oliver's standards at all, so he and Felicity have agreed to replace he old white countertop straight from the eighties to a nicer and newer sandy brown marble. Mainly, Felicity has agreed to that, so her master chef of a husband won't complain about how difficult it is to clean The kitchen is his domain as their home office is hers. Despite that, it is a lovely five bedroom home, which will be wonderful for raising a family.

"Me too, but I have to admit this place is growing on me." Felicity concurs, scooting onto her husband's lap. She's careful to avoid his bad knee. "It's kinda nice, quiet, and cozy, though I do miss Walter."

Rubbing gentle circles over the small of her back, he understands, "I know, but it's just until Monday."

"Yeah," She prompts, "You gonna carry your blushing bride over the thresh hold?"

His broody tone brightens instantly, "Oh, it's a definite possibility. I am nothing, if not a traditional gentleman, Mrs. Queen."

"So traditional, my fine suitor that we slept together the night before our wedding." His wife argues playfully.

"Hey, we had to see each other before the big day." He retorts, booping her nose, "Besides, I don't seem to remember any complaining when I did that thing you love so much."

She recalls, holding up two fingers for emphasis. Her voice is thickly laden with desire at the memory. "Twice."

Oliver may not be so good with words, but he has this way with his mouth and tongue in the bedroom that drives Felicity absolutely insane. First, he teases her at a snail's pace, dragging the wet muscle over her folds, glistening with desire. He does it enough until she yanks at the strands of his spiky blonde hair, demanding a blatant display of where she really wants him. Her legs bracket his shoulders, and from there, Felicity's limbs liquefy. She becomes putty in his hands due to ministrations from his fingers and mouth. It feels really good having him inside her, and Oliver craves Felicity's essence like a ravenous animal. It's amazing for them both. Before that, Felicity didn't believe four orgasms were possible when the timing was just shy of an hour.

"Felicity, everything alright?"

"Hmm..?" His wife asks, snapping back from those loud thoughts, "Uh-huh, just remembered something. Why do you ask?"

His hand moves in a zigzag motion, noting her crinkly eyebrows. Damn it, does he have to know her just as well as she does?

"And you're blushing. Good memory?" He figures, his hand trailing up and down over her back.

Felicity nods, winking, "Definitely."

"Yeah, you want a repeat performance later tonight?"

"Nice try, mister. But the bed we're sleeping on now is barely big enough for the two of us."

The gaze travels over to the empty twin bed - one that's replacing Oliver's beat up army green cot. Felicity literally has to sleep on top of her husband. Not that he minds because she basically does anyway. However, they'll have a lot more room in the king size bed at home. It's a wonder as to why the couple hasn't broken that mattress in the lair yet due to the combined strain of their weight.

Oliver promises with a husky whisper in her ear, "I can make it work. All you have to do is strip down, lay back, relax, and enjoy."

"Rory will be here any minute. I don't want to scar the guy for life anymore than I already have we can't..."

"Can't what?" Rory interjects, bringing in two bags of still warm Big Belly Burger.

Clearing his throat, his friend excuses, "can't wait 'til the food gets here, but you're pretty sneaky there, Rory."

"Yup." Felicity tacks on, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, "We didn't even hear you come in."

Shaking his head, Rory believes, "Which is why the place needs better security. It can be a real balagan in here."

Oliver's face crumples in confusion.

His wife translates, squeezing his broad shoulder, "Mess."

"How much do we owe you?" Oliver inquires, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his blue jeans.

"If I was asking, I'd say eighteen dollars and sixty-one cents. But don't worry about it."

Felicity reprimands, sounding quite maternal, "Rory Joseph Regan."

"Joseph?" Oliver repeats, sharing his wife's sentiment. "We insist."

He reiterates, denying, "I said don't worry about it. It's on the house, but the next one's on you two, or maybe you just repay me by purchasing one of sculptures at Saturday at the art & music festival."

Rory is doing a showcase of his most recent work. Oliver and Felicity are very impressed as to how this young man could take a junked piece of scrap metal and weld into something of beauty. He does have this abstract geometric piece that Felicity definitely has her eye on. In fact, it will look lovely in her office, complimenting her verdant boss-fern quite nicely.

"Was that a hint, Ror?" His colleague questions, already knowing the answer.

Despite that, he replies, already heading towards the elevator, "The biggest."

"Wait!" Oliver beckons, offering, "Why don't you stay and eat with us?"

"Thanks, but I only eat kosher. I'm surprised you don't, Felicity."

She accuses, shrugging her shoulders, "Blame my mother. She had me eating nachos with non-kosher beef and cheese at the Grand before I was off the bottle, and I turned out fine."

"Mostly." Rory teases lovingly, mentioning, "Anyways, I've got a bowl of taco chicken matzo ball soup calling my name with some rugelach for dessert just like my father used to make every winter."

They aren't exactly sure how their friend concocts delicious gourmet meals, which could rival Oliver's, on an antiquated stove in that cramped kitchen of his. Although, Rory claims the apartment above his workshop is the best thing about bachelor life. Besides, food is the simplest reminder of how Rory will never forget his family traditions or Jewish heritage.

His boss relents, "Okay, if you're sure now."

"I am." His lips tick up in appreciative grin, teasing Oliver just as much, "Thanks, Dad. Besides I figured you both would want more time alone, away from everything."

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Rory winks at the couple before he bids them goodbye until tomorrow. Grease stains darken the bottom of the white paper. Big Belly Burger orders are usually gluttonous meals, by hey every one's got to indulge every once in a while. Right. Oliver lines their round glass conference table with a countless amount of napkins. Felicity's face lights up just like when she was a little girl at Hanukkah, waiting to open her present after she and Donna lit their menorah. Her taste buds are delighted by a flavorful Angus beef burger grilled and spiced to her liking. She chomps down on a juicy red tomato slice, briny pickles, and sinfully melted sharp cheddar cheese on a pillowy sesame seed bun. The flavors all meld her mouth in a beautiful symphony of deliciousness.

Felicity swallows, groaning as her eyes roll back, "Mm... Damn, that's good."

In Oliver's mind the face and sounds she makes is narrowly close to orgasmic, and he should know. After all, he loves watching the moment pleasure swamps Felicity from her head down to her toes.

Controlling his urges, her husband says, "Can I have one of your onion rings?"

"Of course," She kindly states, pushing the cardboard box towards him.

Oliver's usually more a shoestring fry kind of a guy. They had Rory order that too, but onion rings were Felicity's favorite. Admittedly, it was a nice change of pace from Mr. Gourmet Master Chef, sitting right beside her. The onion to batter ratio was excellent. He will never attempt Rene's five patty and three slices of cheese monstrosity that Rene happens to call food. That's disgusting, and he thought Barry and Kara could eat. Hell, Rene could give them both a run for their money - even without superpowers. Oliver prefers a healthier turkey burger. It's spiced classic salt & pepper. But it's got a hint of A1 steak sauce that makes it resemble beef. Meaty portobello mushrooms compliment the beef nicely as does the crisp lettuce and stringy layer of mozzarella cheese. The Queens partake in a slew of hand cut regular ol' potato fries and frothy milkshakes. They are chilling in the mini-fridge. Oliver and Felicity suck their respective vanilla and strawberry drinks dry before disposing all their trash.

The bunker may be a bit of a tight fit, considering the Queens had to make it their home away from home. However, they remain fairly comfortable. Following a quick tooth brush and floss, Felicity swaps her work attire for her husband's blue plaid shirt. The pink cardigan and white nautical printed blouse slip off easily, but those goddamned skinny jeans are a whole other story. Her tummy is distended ever so slightly from their delicious dinner, yet she manages to yank down the short zipper. With clenched teeth, Felicity painstakingly works her pants down to the floor. Granted, a part of the dark denim is still clinging her calves like a vice grip.

At the sight of his wife flopped back on the bed with her jeans now around her ankles, he jokes, "Need some help there, Felicity?"

"Now you ask," Felicity quips, gritting her teeth.

Oliver ponts out, yanking the tough denim off her legs, "I'm used to taking these off you."

"Ha Ha," She mutters sarcastically, breathing a sigh of relief, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, Babe?"

"Still here."

Feeling his prickly goatee under his calloused fingertips, he doubts, "Should I shave tonight or not?"

"You are getting a little scraggly there, boy." His wife notes, directing him towards the adjacent bathroom, "Go 'head."

His bare feet pad the floor as he re-enters the bathroom. The buzz of his electric razor cuts through silence after Oliver applies shaving cream, making him look more like Santa than the Green Arrow. Felicity decides to use her precious tablet otherwise known as her tech baby. Her finger swipes over the screen as she peruses an article by Iris West-Allen about The Flash and Kid Flash's weekly save with an unfortunately mishap by Vibe. Thankfully, Caitlin literally stopped the jewel thieves in their tracks by using snow as a roadblock. The article feature great in-action photos by Samantha Clayton. Her battery life rapidly goes from green to read as her eyes scan over the last sentence. Felicity picks at her chipped black nail polish while Oliver washes his face. Her chest jostles and Felicity exhales in boredom. Her gaze fixates at a nick on the ceiling. Was that from one of her husband's arrows? Craning her neck up to look close, Felicity is made painfully aware that the pillow under her head feels much firmer than usual. Grabbing the pillow, she shakes the case to find a journal with varying shades of green and a matching pen.

She huffs out a laugh, "Oh my God."

Felicity debates whether she should or should not read her husband's private thoughts for all of one measly second. This is payback for Oliver laughing at the Justin Timberlake poster above her bed when they visited Donna in Vegas for Mother's Day. Her mom just had to keep her the exact same way it was from high school. Felicity spies recipes, his wedding vows, and something very interesting that goes on for pages and pages. Her husband is a secret author.

" _A Night with Ghost Fox Goddess_ by Starling Scripture" Felicity reads silently to herself, thinking, "That's me. Hell, that better be me, or Oliver, you are gonna be in a shitload of trouble."

* * *

 The great Ghost Fox Goddess returns to a nearly empty apartment after a long day of running Raymond Industries. She'd much rather do other things with her time, but at the very least, she, The Hood, and Spartan stopped Shadowspire's leader former Army sergeant Joyner from releasing Rubicon. Emily rather enjoyed 'accidentally' leaking the tarnished soldier's reputation as a major political statement, sending Joyner's entire career in the gutter. Her husband Adam just has to do another patrol as the Hood, His vision blurs with those ten hours looking at computer screens. Her day job is mundane, and Adam gets an earful by nightfall. She trudges towards the kitchen, greeting their orange cat.

Emily yawns, petting the sleeping furball, "Hey, Jinixie."

She instantly stirs awake, meowing cheerfully in response.

Emily heats up a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese before finally making her way to the bedroom. Emily is dead tired, and her muscles ache. Yet she wants to be awake when Adam comes home from beating the streets. At the moment, Emily needs a way to relax and stay awake at the same time. Her friend Sadie from college had one surefire way to do that. Jinxie traipses in, nuzzling his face against her calves. She slowly takes off her stockings, and makes sure the cat was out of the room. A block over, The Hood, who's draped in the cover of night watches her every move after parkour jumping from the rooftop. He licks his lips, waiting for the real show. Emily slips off her pink button up shirt. Her glasses clink against her nightstand. Cool air grazes her nearly bare torso, causing goosebumps against her creamy smooth skin. Her fingertips trail across her torso, pausing to pay attention to every single curve, especially the underside of her perky breasts. Yet her fingertips travel further and further south, dipping in her bellybutton just as Adam would do. The extreme tightness of his green leather pants makes him want to groan, but Adam holds it in, anticipating the perfect time.

"Mm." Emily hums in frustration, squeezing her breasts cautiously.

But it's not enough. Emily hastily sits up in bed, unsnapping her black and red lacy bra. She tosses the offending contraption to the white carpet floor. Her hands squeeze her breasts against against. This time, not envisioning her own hands. Instead, she visualizes how Adam teases her in a tantalizingly slow manner. Her fingertips skim across her torso once more. Her nails scrape against the delicate skin of her inner thighs, pretending its Adam's stubble rasping against her. Emily's finger drags over her slit. The touch is greeted with lacy underwear. Lifting her hips up, she slides them down just enough, Black lace dangles from one ankle. She sucks ardently on two digits, saliva cooling her tender flesh. Her fingertips find her clit, rubbing the slick little pearl in harsh circular motion. Her crystal blue eyes clech shut even tighter.

Emily lets out a broken gasp, hips undulating against the ministrations of her hand, "Oh... Adam _Don't stop_."

Her long golden goddess-like hair is splayed out angelically over her pillow. A bright blush creeps on her skin. Adam's low rumble from deep in his throat should demonstrate that he's now standing at the balcony door behind their gray curtains. Yet Emily fails to hear it because she's right there. She's nearing the precipice of pure bliss. Yanking his phone out from a pocket in the jacket of his super suit, Adam dials a number he knows all too well.

A ringing cellphone rudely interrupts her release.

She growls angrily, "Adam, my love, this had better be good."

With voice modulator still in use, he requests, "Baby, don't come yet."

"You saw that?" His wife gasps for entirely different reason, "Where the Hell are you?"

He doesn't need to answer because it was then she's aware of the tall, handsome, shadowy figure standing right outside their door.

He gulps, finally gaining the courage to speak, "Fuck, you look so sexy, Em."

"Adam." Emily directs, crooking a finger at him in a come hither motion, "Get over here now."

Shit, Adam doesn't need to be told twice. Unzipping his jacket, he joins her in bed. His body blankets hers in an instant, hissing in slight pain. His full and endowed erection grazes the comforter, but his hot, sexy wife is now naked in his arms. Her classic red nails catch against the vigilante's dark mask, slipping under his hood. His lips trail down the same path she did. When his skilled tongue laves against her pretty glistening pink folds. Emily's hands push at the back of his head. Her sucks on her clit, nursing it thoroughly. A garbled version of her husband's name name sneaks past her lips. Emily's toes curl. Her hands seek purchase, settling in his hair and tugging at the strands as finally reaches that peak of pleasure. Emily rides out her orgasm against his face, and...

* * *

Jogging towards his wife in shock. This time it's Oliver's turn to gasp, "Oh, my God!"

"Hey," Felicity musters up through a fit of giggles, rolling over.

With his arms crossed, her husband interrogates, "And just what did you read in my private journal?"

"Oh, a little something called _A Night with Ghost Fox Goddess_ by Starling Scripture." She chimes, sticking out her tongue at him.

Oliver grumbles, the apples of his cheeks reddening, "You weren't supposed to read that."

"I gathered that." Felicity figures, pulling at her husband's hand. She couldn't pass up another opportunity to tease him one last time, "Art imitating life?"

Looking down at his toes, her husband confesses, "Maybe."

"Emily, Adam, and Jinxie are really you, Walter, and me? Right?"

"Of course. Why I would I think about women when I have you. I just never thought you would read it. God, I want to burn that journal now."

Felicity objects, "No, don't."

"Why so you can make fun of me some more?"

" _No_." She proclaims adamantly. mentioning, "I actually thought it was pretty good."

Well, color him surprised.

He doubts, "Really?"

"Really. When did you write this?"

Oliver thinks back, "Remember that weekend you were mad at me for doing some hero work in Hub City."

"Ah." Felicity figures out with a knowing grin, "So you wrote this during our little dry spell?"

If they could even call it that. A dry spell for the Queens was at most a week, not counting the times they spent recovering in the hospital from some super bads.

He hums, "Mmhm. Can I please have that back now?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

Sitting up, she presses a not at all platonic kiss to his lips. Felicity answers, "I wanna finish reading it. Your story got me a little hot and bothered, and then..."

"Then..?" Her husband smirks hopefully.

Nibbling on his earlobe, Felicity whispers in a seductive tone, "Then we might just have a Helluva happy ending of our own tonight."

"God, yes." Oliver cheers, doing a Felicity-like fist pump.

Considering Oliver takes up most of the space on that tiny twin, Felicity sprawls out over him. She cuddles against his bare chest, nails raking lightly over his skin. He sweetly smooches her forehead before she continues reading aloud this time. Oliver's absolutely mortified, hearing his own words read back to him. He even tries a failed attempt at hiding behind their shared pillow. Although, Felicity really does like his story. Her chipped black painted toenails prick one of his calves as her leg slides ensnares his. His hand descends from her blonde hair to her back, settling on her ample backside. They share chaste pecks that only grow hotter and more passionate when their tongues are in a heated battle for dominance.

His wife wonders, panting slightly, "Is the cat out of the room?"

"What?" He asks, looking quite perplexed by her question.

Okay, so Felicity spells it out for him, repeating her own words, "Let's make a Helluva happy ending for each own, Oliver."

Now, he gets it. With the crazy strength of his, Oliver scoops Felicity up into his arms. Her legs bracket his hips. Granted, they couldn't use their bed for sex. However, there is certainly nothing wrong with a previously test round, glass conference table. Scraps of clothes go flying off. They build each other's pleasure similar to how it was in the story. Moans and gasps fill the once silent room. Eventually, Oliver thrusts, driving in until he's deeply seated inside of her. Felicity's legs cradle Oliver gently. Then, he moves, setting an initially slow rhythm. Although, it quickly escalates to a much more staccato pace His hips stutter, and when his hand sneaks between their bodies, rubbing against her clit as his movements lose all rhythm, Felicity tests the restraint of his body over hers. Her walls flutter around his cock snugly. Her pleasure delicious coats his member, triggering Oliver's own orgasm. Her name escapes his mouth in a harsh grunt. They collapse against one another, and it's a while before they can even move. But they have to because this table isn't helping Felicity's back.

Oliver gathers his wife into his arms, bringing them back to that intimate bed. Their bare skin sticks together with sweat. His calloused hand practically matches the rough of over the manged skin of her back, memorizing each one as he has already done before. Her fingertips trace lazily over the scars on his torso as well, planting a cutely soft smooch where his Bratva tattoo once remained.

Oliver whispers tenderly, "I love you."

"I love you too."

After cleaning up, the Queens succumb to sleep after a long night. Falling asleep with Felicity tucked safely in his arm isn't Oliver's happy ending. It's more like his happy beginning because there is so much more in store for both him and Felicity. His little secret is exposed, but it doesn't matter because when he discovers Felicity has a journal of her own in her laptop. Well, they neighbors are definitely made aware of just how the first couple of Star City loves each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


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